


Is That Your Nightstick or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

by MiskatonicMassacre



Series: Lunael Cops & Crooks AU [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Criminal Michael, Fake AH Crew, GTA!AU, M/M, Other characters pretty minor, Police Officer Miles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiskatonicMassacre/pseuds/MiskatonicMassacre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael winds up getting arrested, and no one in the crew can come get him from holding. He decides to find a way out himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is That Your Nightstick or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, there are like no Miles/Michael fics on here and for some reason I really wanted one featuring criminal!Michael and cop!Miles. I figured if no one else was gonna do it, I would. This is honestly just very self-indulgent.

“I’m really sorry, buddy,” said Geoff. Michael shifted the phone, glancing around the police station to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. A few nearby officers were eyeing him, and how could they not? He was one of Los Santos’ most notorious criminals, but Michael turned so that his back was facing them. 

“How long do you think you’ll need to stay at the safe house?” he asked. There was a pause on the other end before Geoff replied, “Who knows, it was kinda a shit show out there if you didn’t notice.”

“Okay then how long until someone can come get me?”

“Not sure. I got the B-team out running a few errands for me. You think you could maybe sit tight for a little while?”

Michael struggled to hide his annoyance. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, surveying the nearby officers. He knew all of them. He knew most of the Los Santos police. They were only all over his ass, practically every day. At that moment, Officers Gibson, Demarais, and Luna were all eyeing him warily. 

“Forget it,” Michael answered, “I’ll take care of it myself.”

Michael hung up the phone and allowed Officer Gibson to lead him back to his holding cell.

“No one coming to get you?” the cop quipped, pushing Michael into the cell maybe a little too roughly.

“Why? You really so eager to get rid of me?” Michael grinned, “By the way, nice shirt. Too bad it doesn’t come in your size.”

Officer Gibson glared down at his clearly too tight uniform, then back up at Michael, who continued, “We get it dude, you work out.” 

Behind him, Gibson’s coworkers failed to suppress their laughter. Gibson pushed past them with an embarrassed, “Shut up, guys!” and Michael tossed a wink towards the snickering officers.

For the next few hours, Michael mostly kept to himself. He sat patiently in the holding cell, minding his own business. And if any officers happened to look his way, he made sure to give them a small smile, rather than the usual glower he gave to cops. The station began to clear out gradually. Michael watched a number of cops leave, including Gibson and eventually Demarais. It wasn’t long until the only officer left to watch the holding cells was Luna.

Officer Luna sat at a desk across from his cell, absently making his way through some paperwork. Michael got up from where he’d been sitting on the floor and instead came to lean up against the bars. 

“Hey,” he said, rousing Officer Luna from his paperwork filled stupor. “If I told you I had a concealed weapon, would you have to come in here and pat me down?” Officer Luna glanced up to look at the criminal.

“Officer Demarais searched you when we brought you in. I highly doubt he missed anything.”

“Yeah, but I want _you_ to pat me down,” Michael replied with a grin. The cop didn’t respond, his eyes quickly flicking back down to his paperwork.

“How about a strip search?” Michael continued, “I’m packing some heat, that I think you really ought to see.”

Officer Luna stopped pretending to scribble at his paperwork. He stiffened, and tentatively allowed himself to look at the man in the cell across from him. Their brown eyes met and Michael quirked a suggestive brow. Officer Luna, or Miles as Michael knew his name to be, quickly dropped his gaze again. His ears were rapidly turning pink at the tips.

“Very funny, Jones,” he muttered. 

“Who’s joking?” Michael teased, clearly not about to let up. Instead, he brought one arm to rest on the bars above his head, stretching in a way he knew would cause his t-shirt to ride up slightly. 

“You know, I love a guy in uniform,” he said, catching Miles’ eyes hesitantly wandering to stare at his suddenly exposed stomach, “I mean not really, but I think I can make an exception for you.”

“Is that supposed to be a come on, Jones?” Miles asked, knowing very well exactly what it was. The officer’s ears were even pinker than before.

“Oh no. A come one would be, is that your nightstick in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Michael leaned even further against the bars, allowing his t-shirt to unveil another inch of skin. The redhead didn’t expect Officer Luna to remove his eyes from his midriff anytime soon, but as soon as the cop did, raising his gaze instead to look the criminal in the eye, Michael took the opportunity to lick his lips and toss the other man a flirtatious wink. 

Miles let out a nervous laugh.“Alright I think that’s enough out of you. Quit it," he said, burying his nose quickly back into his paperwork. The poor policeman’s ears were practically as red as Michael’s curls.

“Why don’t you come over here and make me, _Miles_?” Michael made sure to really emphasize the first name. The police hated it when any of the crew used their first names, as if they were old buddies. 

Miles dared to look back up at the man in the cell, who was pressed up against the bars in such a delightful position, the absolute worst shit-eating grin plastered onto his face. The criminal looked so obnoxiously handsome in that moment, that it should have been illegal. The man as already behind bars however, what else could Miles possibly do?

He got up from his desk, and carefully made his way towards the cell. He leaned down until his face was only inches from the other man’s. “That’s Officer Luna to you, _Michael_.” He spat the name out like it was dirt in his mouth. 

The criminal was on him in a second, sliding his hands through the cell to snake around the officer’s hips. Miles felt himself get pulled forward and suddenly lips were on his. They kissed roughly, teeth clashing and chests being pressed into by the metal bars that separated them. Michael’s hands quickly drifted to the cop’s ass, while Miles fisted his own hands into Michael’s thick curls. The redhead was biting at Miles’ lip, tugging on it, making Miles whine with delight before abandoning his lips and refocusing his attention to Miles’ neck. Michael sucked hickeys like he was trying to suck the life out of the other man. He nipped the skin and licked the jaw. The boy was hungry. Miles allowed himself to let out a guttural groan, when he suddenly felt a pressure against his thigh. 

“Looks like someone’s a little excited,” Miles panted before emitting a low moan asMichael continued moving his mouth over the other man’s neck and jaw.

“Oh baby, I’m very excited,” whispered Michael, lips now pressed against Miles’ ear. He gave it a rough nip, and as he did Miles heard a distinct metal click. 

“Sonofabitch!” he muttered suddenly realizing his gun was no longer in its holster. 

“Hands up and back away, bitch!” Michael cried and Miles immediately untwined himself from the other man. Michael was grinning at him, lips red and swollen from kissing, his gun in one hand, and the holding cell keys in the other. Miles was mortified as he realized that the redhead had not been feeling him up so much as picking his pockets. He watched pathetically as the criminal unlocked his cell, gathered his things and made to leave the station, the whole time keeping the gun carefully trained on Miles. 

“It’s been fun, seriously it has, but I gotta go, sucker!” And with that Michael was out the door and Miles was in deep shit.

A short while later and Miles was still at the station, his superiors staring down at him. 

“Let me get this straight,” said Officer Heyman, “You let Jones just walk out of here?”

“He didn’t just walk out. He had a gun trained on me, Sir.”

“Uh huh. How did he get a gun?”

“He--! I--! Uh...You know, he’s a crafty one, Sir.”

Officer Burns narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Miles carefully. “Is he?” The man asked as he took a step towards the younger man, “Then why don’t you tell us how you got all those _hickeys_ on your neck, Officer Luna?”

In that moment, Miles didn’t hate anyone as much as he hated Michael Jones. 


End file.
